Muiz Opeyemi Ajayi
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Muiz Opeyemi Ajayi, Frontier XVIII, a young poet and writer, is a Law undergraduate of the University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria. He writes on diverse subjects including identity, contradictions, and uncertainties. He has works featuring/forthcoming on Nigerian News Direct, Fiery Scribe Review, Brittle Paper, Ice Floe, Spillwords, Sledgehammer Lit and elsewhere. He was second runner-up in the 2021 PROFWIC Poetry Contest. Asides Law and Literature, he's intrigued by sport and music. He's @muiz_ajayi on Instagram and @opendites on Twitter
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Natation
in spite of translations,
satan was never christened
èsù. at the moderasat ustaz lectures arabic in english &
you no go fit grab the gist wella like that time i cracked
a joke—that transpired in yoruba
—in english. & no one laughed. & no one laughed. & no
one knows precisely what was lost in translation. & no
one knows where something drowned. where
omi was mistaken for fluidity in this
language where water shares a word with fluid
where thanks & do verb
into ẹṣé as if to say every trudge at action is a leap
towards gratitude. mother makes us lick pepper
mint & bitter cola. says it smoothens the throat's
texture and i pray it dissolves my mouth.
a gordian-knot on the border of being cut &
untied. here a single dò deviates ẹsẹ̀
from sin. & i wonder & i wonder if this means
every step is a kick against the dictum
of God. & in the absence of answers i am belly
up in the middle of the atlantic. well flush
with knowing when the time comes
the water which sails the mackerel
won't refuse to cook it soft.
satan was never christened
èsù. at the moderasat ustaz lectures arabic in english &
you no go fit grab the gist wella like that time i cracked
a joke—that transpired in yoruba
—in english. & no one laughed. & no one laughed. & no
one knows precisely what was lost in translation. & no
one knows where something drowned. where
omi was mistaken for fluidity in this
language where water shares a word with fluid
where thanks & do verb
into ẹṣé as if to say every trudge at action is a leap
towards gratitude. mother makes us lick pepper
mint & bitter cola. says it smoothens the throat's
texture and i pray it dissolves my mouth.
a gordian-knot on the border of being cut &
untied. here a single dò deviates ẹsẹ̀
from sin. & i wonder & i wonder if this means
every step is a kick against the dictum
of God. & in the absence of answers i am belly
up in the middle of the atlantic. well flush
with knowing when the time comes
the water which sails the mackerel
won't refuse to cook it soft.
Commentary
Muiz on “Natation”:
In this poem, I explore the portals between words and worlds, the borders between languages, and the uncertainty borne in translation—the impact of not only colonisation, but its predecessor, still evident in 21st century post-colonial Africa. A boy in his early teens was captured by slave traders, 200 years ago, alongside his mother and siblings, in the present-day Oyo state of Western Nigeria. He was sold to a Portuguese slave ship before the subsequent rescue of his vessel by the British. This slave boy was Ajayi, (right, it's coincidental he shares a name with my forefathers and me) later baptized Samuel Ajayi Chrowther, the first African bishop there ever was, and one who translated the bible into Yoruba. As Adam had leave to name animals in Eden, so was Ajayi assigned the job of putting Yoruba names to English words in the scripture. And this man I adore so much translated Lucifer/Satan, the castaway angel in Christian theology to Èṣù, a divine Yoruba deity. Two centuries after, we grow up (wrongly) believing Èṣù is the devil.
There are few bodies to better witness the aftermath of such conflicted history than that of a 21st century Lagos-born Yoruba boy of Muslim background who attended an Anglican school during the day and Arabic at night, who was brought up to respond to his mother in English even when her questions came in Yoruba. And it seems only right to take the odyssey of this poem through 'natation' in the body of water where it all began.
General Editor Shon Mapp on “Natation”:
"Natation" is a stunning reflection on language in translation. From the first couplet, Muiz engages us by sharing a culturally significant misnomer. Although quiet and dignified, the piece boldly illustrates the casualties of error and omission, how they can shape the understanding of a people. What I loved most about this piece is its dissection of consequence. What is to become of those details lost in translation? If language is to remain a cultural cornerstone, does translation undermine its natural evolution?
In this poem, I explore the portals between words and worlds, the borders between languages, and the uncertainty borne in translation—the impact of not only colonisation, but its predecessor, still evident in 21st century post-colonial Africa. A boy in his early teens was captured by slave traders, 200 years ago, alongside his mother and siblings, in the present-day Oyo state of Western Nigeria. He was sold to a Portuguese slave ship before the subsequent rescue of his vessel by the British. This slave boy was Ajayi, (right, it's coincidental he shares a name with my forefathers and me) later baptized Samuel Ajayi Chrowther, the first African bishop there ever was, and one who translated the bible into Yoruba. As Adam had leave to name animals in Eden, so was Ajayi assigned the job of putting Yoruba names to English words in the scripture. And this man I adore so much translated Lucifer/Satan, the castaway angel in Christian theology to Èṣù, a divine Yoruba deity. Two centuries after, we grow up (wrongly) believing Èṣù is the devil.
There are few bodies to better witness the aftermath of such conflicted history than that of a 21st century Lagos-born Yoruba boy of Muslim background who attended an Anglican school during the day and Arabic at night, who was brought up to respond to his mother in English even when her questions came in Yoruba. And it seems only right to take the odyssey of this poem through 'natation' in the body of water where it all began.
General Editor Shon Mapp on “Natation”:
"Natation" is a stunning reflection on language in translation. From the first couplet, Muiz engages us by sharing a culturally significant misnomer. Although quiet and dignified, the piece boldly illustrates the casualties of error and omission, how they can shape the understanding of a people. What I loved most about this piece is its dissection of consequence. What is to become of those details lost in translation? If language is to remain a cultural cornerstone, does translation undermine its natural evolution?
